*Lynne* leads off day three of Puke Week with a story that proves you can really have too much of a good thing.  I may never truly enjoy a root beer float again.

I was probably in my early teens.

Act 1: My brother and I created our “root beer floats” at home; we might have actually used the good ol’ A&W Root Beer, but I know that we used some weirdly-flavoured ice-cream. Vanilla-based, but with nuts and caramel or something. It was nice, we pigged out, but I don’t think my tummy was too happy with the combination.

Act 2: Soon after that, we went to visit a distant relative who had had heart surgery. I didn’t know him, but I remember him as a painfully thin young man, with this awful scar running down the middle of his chest. The sight of that really got to me: my already queasy tummy got queasier.

It didn’t seem like we were leaving anytime soon.

I remember “feeling pale”… and I went closer to the open window (louvre type) to get some fresh air.

Some inane conversation was still going on between the patient and the other visitors.

I pressed my face to the window, desperately gulping down air.

I think someone *finally* noticed my, errr, condition, and asked if I was okay.

And just about then, huuuurrrrrrrrrrrrkkkkkkkkkkkk….. suddenly EVERYTHING just spewed outta my mouth, splattering all over the floor, by the patient’s bed.

And aww geeee what a sight (all liquid - brown in color.. but streaked with creamy white ice cream… and bits of nuts…) and urrgh what a smell!

The embarassing thing? Or rather, the SHAME, was that the person we came to visit helped clean up the mess I made.

Everyone assumed I had been upset by the sight of the guy’s scar… but i wonder, if i hadn’t been dragged off to do that hospital visit, would I have puked that day? Was it the combination of the float AND the scar that did it for me, or was it *just* that ill-conceived float? or *just* the scar?

Bleah.